


Instant Mess-age

by DownOnThePharm



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 12:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16576133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownOnThePharm/pseuds/DownOnThePharm
Summary: Rimmer’s need to correct Lister’s dodgy grammar and punctuation yields an unexpected result.





	Instant Mess-age

**Author's Note:**

> The plot, such as it is, is shamelessly ripped off from this submission by ClueingforBEGGs to Incorrect Red Dwarf Quotes on Tumblr:
> 
> Rimmer: Lister sent an internal message reading ‘your adorable’ so I sent one back saying ‘No, YOU’RE adorable.’ Now he likes me. We’ve been on a date. All I did was point out a typo.

_*chirp*_

 

_*chirp*_

 

_*chirp*_

 

Rimmer looked up from the elaborate revision timetable he was drafting, and glared at a nearby wall-mounted workstation terminal.

 

_*chirp*_

 

_*chirp*_

 

The terminal continued to emit a soft, insistent alert. Rimmer huffed in annoyance, and hauled himself out of his seat. “It’s probably that little gimboid again,” he muttered to himself as he logged onto the system. “Why the smeg he can’t just keep a diary to practice his writing like a sensible person, I’ll never know.”

Enrolling in his robotics studies had kindled an interest in learning in Lister, much to Rimmer’s surprise. Lately, the Scouser had been working on improving his writing skills. As his handwriting was an illegible scrawl that Rimmer said compared unfavorably to the farmyard scratchings of an arthritic chicken, Lister opted to use the _Dwarf’s_ computer system for practice. He would transcribe his course notes, write ship status reports, and even occasionally try his hand at short stories. Rimmer had disdained his efforts as a passing fancy at first. As Lister persisted, though, the hologram had gradually developed a grudging respect for him, and was now secretly quite proud of his bunkmate, although he would never admit it.

While poking about in the computer one afternoon, Lister had inadvertently booted up the ship’s long-dormant internal messaging system. He had promptly taken to it like a duck to water, and liked to bombard Rimmer with frequent, generally pointless messages. In retaliation, Rimmer would fire back responses in which he’d correct Lister’s grammar and spelling, and add a snide comment or three. As he logged on this time, Rimmer wondered what fresh bit of nonsense awaited him. Knowing Lister, the message could be anything from a list of the worst Zero-G footballers to a request for lamb vindaloo for dinner. Rimmer clicked on the “message waiting” icon.

 

_GuitarGOD: your adorable..!.._

 

Rimmer rolled his eyes, and shot off a reply correcting his bunkmate.

 

_DukeRimmer: No, YOU’RE adorable._

 

Within seconds, the system chirped again.

_GuitarGOD: where r u at?_

_GuitarGOD: I mean, where are you now?_

 

Rimmer sighed and rubbed his temples. On the one hand, if he didn’t reply, Lister would undoubtedly track him down and pester him for not answering. On the other hand, if he did reply, Lister would most likely come pester him anyway. There was no help for it, he thought. His quiet revision time was about to be smegged either way, he reasoned, so he may as well respond.

 

_DukeRimmer: In the sleeping quarters, you goit. I’m TRYING to revise, so I would appreciate being left in peace, if you please._

_GuitarGOD: Stay right there!_

_DukeRimmer: I had planned on it, Listy._

 

Logging out, Rimmer returned to his seat, and resumed painstakingly lettering his new revision timetable with a calligraphy pen. He was adding in a fifth nap break when Lister came pounding into their quarters as though the hounds of Hell were on his heels. He skidded to a halt next to the startled hologram, and grabbed his hand, squeezing it almost painfully tightly while staring deeply into his eyes. Still gasping for breath, Lister managed to blurt out, “You do feel the same, y’smegger! I knew it!”

Nonplussed, Rimmer stammered, “Sorry, but, what?”

“You like me!”

“Pardon?”

“You like me!”

“Well, yes, I suppose, but... Could you stop squeezing my hand so hard, please?”

Lister loosened his grip with a sheepish smile, but didn’t let go. “Sorry, man. It’s just that I’m so smegging happy!”

Rimmer was utterly perplexed. “Happy, why? What’s all this about, Listy?” He didn’t attempt to free his hand, as Lister’s warm, firm grip felt rather nice.

Confused, Lister asked, “Didn’t you just tell me you think I’m adorable?”

“Come again?”

“Your message - I said I think you’re adorable, and you replied that you think I am, too. Did you mean it, or were you just taking the smeg?” To hide his confusion and hurt, Lister looked down at their clasped hands, and began running his thumb over Rimmer’s knuckles.

Rimmer tried to speak, but was briefly distracted by Lister’s caress. When he managed to collect his thoughts again, he slowly replied, “Ah, yes - that. What I meant by that was...”

Lister’s thumb traced tiny circles on the back of Rimmer’s hand. Rimmer’s simulated breath faltered. 

“I mean, what I was actually doing was, uh...”

Lister raised Rimmer’s hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss on the back of his wrist.

“Listy, what I’m trying to say is, um... smeg.”

Questioning, soft brown eyes met Rimmer’s uncertain hazel gaze. “You what?”

“I...”

A thousand choices presented themselves to Rimmer in a moment that seemed to last an eternity. 

He made his decision, acting at last upon decades of long-suppressed emotions he had once mistaken for hatred, but now realized with blinding clarity were quite the opposite.

Tentatively, he leaned forward and placed his free hand on Lister’s cheek. “You are adorable,” he whispered. 

Lister closed the gap.


End file.
